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Chapter Three
 
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Thanks to dawnofme for the beta. Please see author's note at the end.


Once the train station came into sight, her stomach fluttered in nervous anticipation. She smoothed her hair and scanned the area. A sudden twinge of pain that quickly morphed into panic hit her. Her steps slowed until she looked like a child lost in a forest. The fluttering in her stomach became a thud—lead bricks weighing her body and hope down. Tears pricked her eyes. A few minutes passed before the full realization of her loss finally hit.

With a zombie-like gait, she shuffled to the bench and slumped down. When she saw the pile of cigarette butts, her control failed, and the sadness took over. Leaning over, she let her head fall into her hands. She had been too late. For once, she had a man who never wanted to leave, and she had discarded him like an unwanted puppy. The opening of a door startled her, and sniffling, she raised her head in alert.

“Spike?” she whispered as the blond vampire exited the station store. His eyes widened, and he dropped the pack of cigarettes on the ground. The one already in his mouth hung limp as he noticed her tear-stained face.

“Slayer?” he asked, not sure if he could trust his vision. A breeze sent leaves skating across the ground. One halted when it met Buffy’s boot, and her scent danced on the air, tantalizing his senses.

Once he realized that he wasn’t going insane, he had to utilize all his strength to keep from reaching out to wipe the falling drops from her face. His mouth tightened on his cigarette, and he brought the Zippo to the tip. He let a casual trail of smoke escape his lips to downplay how much her presence affected him. With her intentions still unknown, he wanted to give her nothing.

Buffy hoped that her tears and the simple fact that she came would be enough for him. Suddenly, the determination and courage of earlier failed her, and she switched to offensive mode.

“So, you were just going to leave town without telling me?” she said with slayer resolve, her arms folding and posture stiffening.

He bit back a remark exposing the show he realized she was performing. “Didn’t think you’d care, Slayer. Figured once you discarded your used goods, they didn’t matter much anymore.”

Her eyes—unable to handle that hurt, accusing stare—darted from his. The afternoon returned, along with all the previous times she had called him a thing, evil, or soulless. Why did he love her when all she did was bring him pain?

Spike watched her reactions and feared he had pushed too far, perhaps halting whatever declarations she may have come to make. His hand stretched out and stroked her shoulder with a lover’s touch. Although she tensed, he didn’t pull away. He flicked the cigarette to join his pile and sat down beside her.

“Buffy, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so harsh.”

Her laughter threw him off guard, and he felt a tangle form in the pit of his stomach.

“I’m sorry,” she said between giggles. “It’s just ridiculous.”

Clenching his jaw, he removed his hand and started to stand. A soft touch on his thigh stopped him. He stared at her and was met by sparkling eyes bordered by tears.

This is it, she thought. It’s time to be brave and not stupid, Buffy.

“Spike,” she began, “I wasn’t laughing at you. Well, I was, but not like that.”

She paused, hating her inability to say what she meant. “It’s silly for you to be apologizing to me after all I’ve done to you and said to you. I deserve that and worse.” She put a hand to his face and traced his cheekbone. “What I don’t deserve is you.”

Spike’s heart trembled in anticipation of what she might finally be saying. As her words sunk in, he shook his head and stroked her golden locks. “Nonsense, Pet. You deserve the world.”

Their eyes met, and for once, she didn’t look away. She allowed his stare to penetrate her, traveling through her and crushing the walls barricading her heart. Smiling, she took his hand and entwined it with hers.

Breaking the gaze, he stared at this tiny gesture of affection and knew more than a crumb was being thrown his way.

“Spike…”

“Yeah, Luv?”

“I want to be clear. I don’t love you.” When he growled and pulled away, she held him with all her strength and hastily added, “Please, Spike, just hear me out.”

He stilled his body and looked forward. His patience—never truly present—fell, but he tried to trust that she wouldn’t obliterate his heart twice in one day. Something in her voice convinced him of that.

“Spike?” she whispered.

“I’m listening.”

She inhaled and exhaled a few times and fiddled with the rings on his fingers. “I don’t love you.”

“Already established that,” he muttered.

Ignoring the remark, she continued, “Right now, I don’t even like myself very much, let alone love the self that I am. In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve got a tiny bundle of issues.”

His smirk gave her more confidence. “You deserve someone who will treat you…well, who won’t treat you like nothing, and I want to be that person, but I have to get all my Buffy bits aligned and get right with me again. And I’m hoping that you can understand that because I think I could really…” She stopped, knowing this was the big moment. She looked at his face and finished, “you know, love you.”

She held her breath for what seemed liked a millennia waiting for his reaction.

Sparks of joy coursed through his body as he soaked in her words. He pulled her close—brushing her lips lightly with his—and whispered, “Of course, I get that, and of course, I’ll wait. Would wait forever for you, Buffy.”

“Glad to hear that,” she said and pulled away to look at him. She marveled at the affection staring back at her.

“So,” he grinned, “what exactly does this waiting entail?”

“For one, no sex.”

He waved his hands across his body. “Deal’s off then…kidding,” he added after she nudged his shoulder with hers.

“Remember the alignment part?” she said. “I don’t think that’ll happen if you keep shagging me senseless all the time.”

Spike chuckled. “Careful, Luv, you’re picking up my words.”

“Next, I’ll be cheating at kitten poker.”

“Hey, I don’t…”

Buffy cocked her brow in a manner that rivaled his own, and he conceded. “Ok, maybe once or twice.”

“Right.” She laughed, loving the ease and comfort between them that had replaced the tension.

“Ok, no sex,” he said, bringing them back on topic. “So what will this be then?”

Buffy’s fingers explored his hair, squirming their way between the gelled ridges and transforming them into soft curls. “We don’t have to call it anything right now, do we? I don’t want to be confined to a definition and feel like we have to live up to that. We can just be, right?”

Dropping his head a little, he said, “And I’ll still be your little secret?” The fragile look in his eyes foiled his light tone. The poet craved recognition and still feared this would unravel and be revealed as a cruel joke.

Buffy saw the desperation and wished to wipe it from his face. Trying to acknowledge his question without stomping on his manliness, she said, “Well, since you’re willing to go cold turkey for me, I thought it would only be fair to do something for you. I’m going to tell my friends that you’re in my life—that you’re the man in my life.”

Spike fought the urge to kiss her right then, wanting to be sure she wasn’t lulling him into some false sense of security. His emotions had been driven all across town and back by this beautiful, stubborn, pain-in-the-ass, amazing woman, and she kept surprising him, denying those feelings any reprieve. “You mean that?”

She nodded. “I do.”

Unable to control his excitement any longer, Spike leapt to his feet, pulling Buffy with him. He twirled her in the air, gracing her face with light kisses when her heels touched the ground again. Happiness engulfed him. Seeing the radiance on her face told him she felt the same. To be certain, he asked, “Are you sure this is what you want, Pet?”

“Seriously, if Mr. Percepto-Guy can’t read all the signs I’ve been handing out all night, then I should consider myself a failure and forego the helping of me. I don’t think I can say it any clearer. I, Buffy, want you, Spike. Huh,” she said with a laugh, “I suppose that’s way clearer.”

When his face turned from jubilant to somber, she worried something she said had hit wrong. “Spike? What’s the matter? You went from Mr. Happy Vamp to bad-moody in record time.”

He sighed. The earlier vision—or whatever it had been—could have been a sign. Buffy needed to know what she was missing. Despite what her words said, she deserved more. “Buffy, you should know,” Spike said, “I was going away tonight to get something. For you. Something to make me more worthy of kissing you, holding you, being near you. I was going to get-”

Her finger on his lips halted his words. Pulling him closer, she replaced her finger with her mouth and kissed him as if they were teenagers experiencing each other for the first time. When they parted, Buffy held him close to her, circling her fingers around the nape of his neck and stroking the fine curls. “I don’t care what you were going to get or what you were going to do. I want you just as you are.”

Spike’s heart swelled at those words, and he gained the courage to take her hand. They strolled away from the train station, both basking in their new beginning.

As they became spots in the distance, a figure appeared in the shadows. A frown marred its features. “Well, that is disappointing.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A/N: This is the end of this part of the story. Obviously, there are aspects left open, and I plan to continue unraveling in a sequel. I just wanted this part to focus on Buffy and Spike's relationship getting in sync. Thanks to all who read and reviewed. It's much appreciated.
 
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